The shadows were long and twisting. The unnatural green-yellow light throbbed and pulsated, making the shadows dance in a phantasmagoric chain. When he watched only the shadows long enough, he could imagine they were demons dancing victoriously around their victims. "Penance! Penance!" they cackled gleefully. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!"

His hands curled around the stalky bars of his cage as he watched the shadows dance, doing anything to keep his eyes away from the horror below. A scream split the air and he flinched, trembling. The scream morphed into a mournful gurgle and he squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip to hold back a whimper.

A hand touched his fingers and he opened his eyes with a gasp. He met the soft brown eyes of the person in the cage next to him. They had to push their shoulder all the way against the vines in order for their arm to reach him. He grabbed that hand desperately, grateful for the human contact, the comforting touch.

"It will be over soon," his friendly giant whispered.

But it wasn't. The gurgling growl continued on for much longer than it had any right to. It was an inhuman roar/scream that he couldn't block out. His giant friend squeezed his hand and it looked like he was praying. The dancing shadows grew and retracted, undulating in step with their hellish heartbeat. It was harder to focus on the hand in his own and the sickly, shadowy walls as the sound continued. Resistance etched away at him with every shaky breath. He peeked.

It… was still breathing. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the ungodly shape in the trial cage below. It had too many bones and not enough fur to hide the skin, and fangs too large that they forced its mouth open, stuck in a lock-jawed moan. The monster writhed and rocked, trying to find a morsel of comfort in its miserable existence. The image seared into his eyes, his mind, his very soul.

"For God's sake, just end them!" he yelled, voice cracking. His friend squeezed his hand tighter, a warning, but he hadn't even realized he had shouted. "It didn't work, just put them out of their misery!"

Satan himself turned from his abomination and looked at him, yellow eyes boring into his own. He raised his arm, and suddenly his hand was wrenched from his friend's. The cage around him turned inwards and attacked, pulling his arms and legs away from his fetal crouch and lifting him up. The coils tightened around him and he screamed.

"FUCK!"

Bishop awoke and embedded a knife in the wall. He had two more under the mattress and threw those as well, one of them shattering the mirror across from his bed. His breathing stayed ragged until the last shard fell to the floor. He pulled the chain to his bedside lamp so hard that it broke, but mercifully the light turned on.

He leaned forward and pressed his palms to his eyes. It had been a while since one that strong had graced him. It wasn't often that nightmares could leave him raw, nowadays. He hated the feeling and gritted his teeth. His right calf shouted at him and thunder rumbled outside.

Deep breaths. Compartmentalize. Nerves went down to the bottom where they didn't exist. Rage could linger just a little longer. He didn't feel unbalanced, he didn't. He wasn't taken by surprise or caught off guard. He was in control. Think. This was just adrenaline. It would fade, and so would his shaking. Natural bodily reactions were to be expected, so one just had to be mindful of them. He began taking slower, deeper breaths.

Plan. The mirror would have to be repaired, and by someone he trusted not to ask questions. There was also little chance of returning to sleep by now and so the time would be better spent working. Cocytus called to him, yet the fading adrenaline brought on a different kind of shakiness, which would be better addressed first. A hot drink, a little bit of food, perhaps a moment with the Cherubim and then he could work on Project Achilles. Or Project Bronze, he mused. Von Ryan had responded to his and Chaplin's emails for most of the day before unexpectedly going quiet in the evening. He could look into that, alternatively.

Act. He slipped off the bed, mindful of the glass on the floor, and crossed to the closet. His leg ached and cramped, but he fought through it. Familiar white dress shirts and black pants welcomed him as he opened the door and he slipped into routine. He tucked the shirt in and tightened the belt. Next came the boots: a sturdy, steel-toed pair thick enough to stop a blade. They were custom made to fit his feet without any annoying laces that could come loose in an operation. He rolled his pant legs down over them, giving them the appearance of innocent desk-job footwear. Rising, he selected a thin necktie and fastened it with a knot professional enough to look crisp and put-together, but loose enough that he could undo it in a second should anyone try to grab and choke him with it.

His black coat hung from a hook and he shrugged it on. It was heavier than it looked, lined with a thin layer of Kevlar that went all the way down to his boots. His dagger was now replaced with a machete, tucked just inside within easy reach. Standard watch and earpiece went on next, connecting him with the whole of the BAI network. He pulled his tinted glasses off their charger and pushed them onto his face, letting them take a moment to scan the room. No traces of mystic energy, which he knew, but it was still reassuring. He stepped back from the closet and regarded it.

After a moment's contemplation, he reached inside a lockbox and pulled out a 9mm Glock. He strapped it on, letting the weight provide a cold, steely comfort.

He was John Bishop. Nothing got to him.

Robyn sat in the HQ cafeteria reading a book. Securing Harold in his new environment had taken up most of the day. It was the job of the scientists now to help return him to human form. Everyone on the team was staying in the barracks to sleep off the mission, and to remain close at hand to their specialized med center should any adverse mystic effects suddenly appear. Augie didn't think there would be any, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. She had napped in the afternoon and, ever the night owl, couldn't fall asleep now. Since Augie was such a light sleeper she'd retreated here so as not to disturb him. It was still storming outside; if she listened closely, she could hear the rain on the rooftop and occasional rumble of thunder. It would have sucked if their mission had been scheduled for tonight; there weren't many upsides to fighting a monster in a downpour.

She chewed her lip. To be honest, it bothered her that they had had to fight the mutant at all. Sure, in the heat of the moment the adrenaline thrilled her as always, but she had hoped the promotion would have taken her and Augie away from the fighting. They were coaches now, and coaches didn't play. Her close call had almost… well. What they did was dangerous, and as much as she wanted to protect the world from threats, she also wanted to come home to her daughter… even if her daughter didn't want her there.

April had been so cheery when they mentioned they would be gone for two nights. Robyn hadn't missed how she was leaving earlier and earlier for school, taking breakfast there when she had never done that before. Homemade pancakes could only do so much, and Robyn had tried, tried to relate, but still felt her slipping away.

Maybe things would be better tomorrow when they could go home. Robyn sighed. Maybe there was a way she could ask for another promotion, or a department transfer, to get away from dangerous lifestyle. A girl could dream.

She realized she had read a page of her book but had no idea what it said. Flipping back to the beginning, she noticed someone else enter the cafeteria. Her eyes widened in curiosity when she saw that it was none other than Bishop himself. He was dressed in his typical suit, which made her wonder if he wore it to bed. Or showered in it. The man never changed. She stifled a giggle as he crossed to the drink counter.

Shifting in her seat and propping up her book, she inconspicuously watched him. He was flexing his hands a lot, and leaning on his left leg. The storm must be irritating that wound of his. Maybe that was why he was up. A grin spread across her face when she realized he was making hot chocolate of all things. Augie was never going to believe this. Bossman, Agent King of Agents, drank cocoa. If only she had a secret camera…

"Is there something you need, O'Neil?"

Oh shoot, he was looking at her. Robyn put down her book and held up her hands in a 'you caught me' gesture. "Seems a late night for you, sir."

"I suppose one could say that." He took his cup of cocoa and walked over to her table. His limp was a bit more pronounced, but she knew better than to comment on it. He sat down a few seats away and drank in silence.

Robyn suddenly realized that while her wish for an opportunity of a less dangerous lifestyle had come true, she wasn't sure how to bring it up. It was too soon to ask about promotions or transfers! Yet here was the perfect chance to talk to the boss one on one. What could she say? Should she say nothing?

"How is Augustus doing?"

She blinked. Bishop had just initiated small talk. Alright. That was new, but she was grateful the universe had answered her prayers. "He's doing well. The recruits got to watch him eat three enchiladas right after the mutant wrap-up, so they've got some respect for his iron stomach, now." She smiled at the memory. Most had still been too ill to even consider breakfast, but Augie had picked some up anyway. A couple recruits got sick all over again from the smell. She knew it tickled him pink.

"As they should. How is your daughter doing, April, wasn't it?"

Wouldn't she like to know? "She's… good," she answered. "School's been keeping her busy, especially close to the end, here. Summer should be a little more relaxed."

"I see," he responded, sipping his cocoa. "What school was it she attended, again?"

"Eastman Early College High School," Robyn stated proudly. "My girl is gonna graduate with her diploma AND her Associate's degree!"

"EEC," Bishop mused. "A friend of mine's son goes there. Does April know anyone by the name of Othello von Ryan?"

"Not that she's mentioned to me," she said, still getting over the shock that Bishop had friends. Her boss opened his mouth to say something so she quickly added, "But I can certainly ask!"

"Wonderful. I would very much like to know if he is doing well."

"Of course!" she chuckled. "Though I will admit it's tough to be away from her." Here we go, this is your moment. "I had kind of hoped that heading Project Eurydice would allow some time away from the field. I'm thankful for the opportunity to stay in New York, but it still worries me that I won't come home to her one day."

Bishop finished his cocoa and observed her for a moment. She held her breath, hoping not to overstep. "You care very much for you daughter," he said.

"I do."

"And would do anything to protect her."

She shuddered as the Stadium Incident crossed her mind. "Anything."

He nodded once to himself, not that she could discern what he was thinking. The man simply did not emote very well. She straightened her back as he pushed away from the table and stood. "Eurydice needs a little time for the fresh recruits to become more experienced, but I do have other projects on the table of a more… stationary nature. I will keep you in mind for them."

Her heart leaped and she stood up too, not knowing what else to do. "Thank you, sir!"

"Of course," he waved, granting her a rare smile. "Tell April 'hello' for me, and do let me know about Othello."

"Absolutely!" she snapped to a salute. When he exited the cafeteria, she sat slowly back down in her seat, almost disbelieving her luck. Maybe things would be alright after all.